


deadbeat escapement

by crookedspoon



Series: Exchange Fics [53]
Category: Batman: White Knight (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Cameos, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, POV Bruce Wayne, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:10:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Bruce digests the revelation that his son is still alive.





	deadbeat escapement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ictus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ictus/gifts).

> Dear ictus, I was very excited to find your letter and couldn't really decide which of the canons you had requested to write for. Here is just a little something that I hope counts as a trick!
> 
> Takes place between White Knight and Curse of the White Knight.

The grandfather clock in his study is a masterpiece of craftsmanship that has been in his family for nearly three hundred years if he records are to be believed. With barely any scuff marks on its impeccably buffed casing, it's a timeless timekeeper that keeps ticking steadily on.

How many revolutions of the hands since Alfred had died? How many more since Jason's disappearance? How many until he'll lose Dick and Barbara?

How many until his time will have come?

In his darker moments, he used to wonder if, by the end, there would be anyone to leave his heirlooms to, those items that have been handed down from parent to child, that have become part of his family history. He would not be able to leave his family name behind, but if he could choose a successor, he would at least uphold a lineage even if it would not be one of blood.

In a similar vein, he use to wonder which of his kids would pick up the mantle of Batman and continue his fight for justice, for surely they must want to as deeply as he does. Back then, it had been his belief that Batman could transcend the trappings of the individual to become more than just the alter ego of one solitary man.

Back then, he had yet to see what foolishness it all had been. In his single-minded quest to make Gotham safe, he has lost sight of what is truly important: the people of Gotham. His family.

This past year has made him realize him more about himself – about Batman – than he has ever wanted to confront. That his cause may not be as altruistic as he had made it out to be; that he had created the monsters that were locked up at Arkham; that Gotham would be better off without him.

It has also created new wounds alongside old ones that would not close – those, the revelations this year has brought only ripped deeper still. He has not only lost his trusted friend, the man who had been like a father to him throughout all this time, he has also made a discovery that compounded his grief. As if losing Alfred was not painful enough, he had to learn that Joker had not killed Jason.

Jason is still alive. 

News like this – loved one previously presumed dead turns out to be alive – are cause for joyous celebration, but any joy he could and should have felt is overshadowed by the fact that Jason had not come home. That he had chosen not to.

Maybe it was another cruel trick played on him by the Joker. Maybe Jason was truly dead and Joker merely said he wasn't because he knew how much more it would hurt Bruce. Maybe he had let Jason go, but Jason had succumbed to his injuries not long after escaping.

These are the answers Bruce can accept. Anything is easier to accept than the possibility that his son hated him so much he would rather take care of his broken and bleeding body on the streets of Gotham than return to Bruce and the safety of Wayne Manor. That he purposely let Bruce believe his worst nightmare – that Jason was dead – so he would be free of him.

Bruce had looked everywhere for Jason. But he had been looking for a dead body, not a live one. Perhaps that was his mistake. That he did not believe in Jason and his resilience. That he had been so blinded by his pain and his need to make Joker into the monster Bruce knew he was capable of being that he jumped to the nearest possible conclusion.

He wonders if Jason can ever forgive him for not looking harder. Or if it had been just fine with him that Bruce didn't.

"Bruce?" Barbara's voice comes from outside his study. "Bruce, please talk to us."

"Let's give him some space," Dick suggests quietly.

"I don't think he should be alone right now. He just lost Alfred. He needs us."

"What he needs is for us not to hover. I know you want to help, but there's nothing we can do now." 

Bruce keeps staring at the letter in front of him on the mahogany desk in the long silence that follows. There are no retreating footsteps on the carpet to indicate that they have left, so they are still standing in front of the study.

"Bruce," Dick finally says through the crack in the door. "You know we're here for you when you're ready."

Then they leave, murmuring amongst themselves.

Their presence does not ease his pain, and yet it somehow becomes easier to bear with them around. His relationship with them has been rocky at best – especially this past year. It borders on a miracle they would give him the time of day after his dismissive treatment of them. But maybe they are not doing it for Bruce's benefit. Or not only. Alred had been the glue that held them all together. Maybe standing by Bruce no matter what is their way of honoring Alfred's memory.

Bruce rubs his temples. Beneath his seasoned grief there is a seed of hope. If Jason is still alive, Bruce has the chance to mend his relationship with him. He has the chance to repeat all the things he whispered at Jason's gravesite, wishing he were still alive so he could tell him in person.

He has the chance to apologize. For everything.

He has no idea what good it will do after all these years, if finding Jason is not more about assuaging his own guilt than anything else. And yet, he has to find him. If only to make sure. 

Bruce, however, cannot face Jason. Not yet. Like a pendulum, his mind is oscillating between two matters. Before he can set everything aside to give Jason his full, undivided attention, there is another mystery to solve first.

As the clock strikes the half hour, Bruce picks up Alfred's letter. He has committed the words to memory, but carrying them with him gives him some inner fortitude he might otherwise have lacked. Like a written note of permission, they're what he needs to allow himself to enter Alfred's quarters to find the secrets he has kept hidden beneath the floorboards.

Whatever they are, he will uncover them quickly so that nothing stands between him and finding his son anymore.


End file.
